Golden Threads and Poisoned Fangs
by Checkmate 24601
Summary: A series of drabbles/ficlets of Gin x Orihime... setting: Las Noches
1. Chapter 1

**Golden Threads and Poisoned Fangs**

**Laughter**

"Shit!"

Now swearing was a commonplace occurrence in Las Noches, especially Grimmjaw's irrepressible temper and Nnoitra's constant warmongering, itching for a fight. Except this time, the expletive hadn't come from either of those two troublemakers. The curse wasn't even spoken by any of the Espada. Instead it was…

"Orihime, what could possibly…" Aizen trailed off, surprise uncharacteristically on his face, as he took in the strange scene before his eyes.

Orihime was cradling her evidently broken wrist against her chest, breathing heavily. Pain caused her eyes to slightly water.

Opposite her, some distance away, Nnoitra's face sported a darkening purple bruise strangely in the shape of a tiny fist.

"You little bitch! Just you wait.."

Before Nnoitra could follow through with his threat or Aizen could speak another word, a new sound was heard.

Everyone turned to gaze at Gin.

The silver-haired man was doubled up, laughing.

Even Aizen stared.

Gin may have smirked, mocked, killed, been sarcastic to the point of irritation … but never had he laughed, and certainly never like this.

"You find this funny, you bastard! Why don't you get a taste of this! That'll wipe the smile off yer –"

Nnoitra was cut off mid-speech by a sword impaling his stomach.

"Gin." Aizen reproved smoothly though, to Nnoitra's consternation, a small smile curved his lips.

As Ulquiorra led Orihime away, she couldn't help but look back to gaze at Gin. _Was it her imagination or did his smile seem to widen when he was… looking at her too?_

She did not know much about this dangerous man, a man so dangerous and almost, if not equally as, dangerous as Aizen.

But whether he realized it or not, whether he was deliberate and willing or not, he had inadvertently saved her from another clash with Nnoitra.

**A/N **Hallelujah! My exams are at last over, and I can soon get back to my other stories including _She's no traitor_.

As always, don't forget to leave a review. Always much appreciated!

And no… Bleach does not belong to me, only Tite Kubo.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **Thank you so much for reviewing, minna-san! Loved your comments and encouragements. This next chapter for you… enjoy :3

**Golden Threads and Poisoned Fangs**

**Pawn**

"Are ya weaving again, Sunshine?"

Dusky eyes delicately fringed by long lashes lifted to gaze at silver and safely-lidded shutters to the soul across their respective armies of black and white.

He acts first, always acts first. White has the privilege, causing a surge of unexpectedness. It is very cold.

She makes her move.

Across the landscape, where no one is safe and no one is exempt from the cruelties and casualties of war, a lone black tiny foot soldier advanced.

Her answers to his questions varied each time. Whereas he only questioned and never answered – deflecting, avoiding, and trapping through silence and his enemies' ignorance –, she counters by answering, always answering – but the possibilities on her side are endless, infinite. There is a difference in her tactic though. Her answers are embedded in questions, themselves gently enclosed in answers – a never-ending riddle, an enigma.

How had she answered him the first time time?

"_I don't know how to weave, Ichimaru-san, but I've learnt a bit of sewing and crocheting in the Handicrafts' Club at school."_

He had been taken off-guard by her response, she can tell. The tightening and stretching of his smile had been fascination, not irritation – like stepping too loudly on a twig and awakening a nearby rattlesnake.

And what was her response the last time?

"_Are ya weavin' Sunshine?"_

"_Do I look like I have the strength to even learn how?"_

That had been the time Aizen (not Aizen-sama, _never _Aizen-sama in her mind) had branded the symbol of infinity on the back of the soft, tender dip in her neck with his reiatsu; attempting to break her and mark her as his.

That was the time he told her to call him by his first name.

The next time he came to visit her… he brought their battleground.

Between the two of them, truth and fantasy dance on the rapid lengthening and shortening of a blade's edge. Chiaroscuro inks, pools and spreads beneath their fingertips.

His white knight, the ironically inverted proverbial 'black horse', rears forward. Hot-headed, rash temper, and containing all the fury of an electric blue wildcat, it challenges her black knight.

Her graceful bishop, more of a black guardian angel with white snow and icy quick wittedness, dances into position, sliding gracefully two steps diagonal of his white knight.

He mirrors her with his bishop, a loyally-blind bishop of righteousness, comes forward, interceding retreat.

She goes on the offense, placing her fortress of a rook of musically-unimaginable strength forward.

The war is progressing.

Other rank-and-file members are moving on both sides. Valuable allies fall.

Her rook. Her bishop.

Much of his pawns although one of the little ones – green, bright-eyed with amnesiac innocence – inadvertently saves her knight when placed in between his second white horse and her protector.

Not enough. He pushes forward his rook and subsequently a well-executed and well-placed bishop.

She hesitates. Her hand pauses above the drab landscape.

It was not the indiscriminate brute strength of his rook that causes her to consider and weigh her options. It is the green-eyed, empty but pious clergy figure which moves her to uncertainty, threatening her knight, and forces her hand.

She knows what she will do, what she will gladly, voluntarily do. She sacrifices her black queen – a resolute Dignity, a Confession who as a princess had been plagued with moments of self-doubts and a dark backstory, but in _this_, there is _no mistake_.

That one move weakens her whole formation, rustling the normally indifferent and highly intelligent second bishop. Her second rook, arms healed, moves back and forth from side to side, angrily turning over in his mind his last defence of her before her sacrifice, her disappearance.

"_Inoue is important for her healing abilities in battle, even if her nature is not in the actual fighting. More importantly, she is our…"_

"_NAKAMA"_

The one word, one bond which binds the core trio plus the additional duo.

Her knight reacts at her loss, his loss.

Eager for action, he is initially blocked by the black king – impervious, commanding, traditional and unmoved – and the rest of the rank-and-file who Orihime has oddly, surprisingly perhaps in their eyes, kept intact – she bought them their desperately needed Time.

She is initially overwhelmed by the onslaught of his mercenaries – individuals ranging from the scientifically-mad, the lonely wolves, the regenerated panther, the coldly passionate shark, and the lustfully jealous … of course, there was also the continually challenging, continually shifting (self-destructing?) Nihilism.

Casualties. Blockades by both sides by their pawns. _Disposable tools_ in the eyes of the white King, the ambitious False God, who had greatly injured, snapped, left behind a devoted true Follower.

Even her Knight fell.

But he was regenerated and surged, crawled, ran _doing everything in his power _to reach Her, take revenge for her Sacrifice. Even standing side by side, hand in hand, She cannot follow Him.

_Not yet._

There is something she must do, something only which_ she _can do_._

And in the midst of all these different battles, one overlooked, under-estimated lone black foot soldier trudged on, unnoticed, carefully progressing, taking minor blockages in her path, moving diagonally after each 'eat', sometimes avoiding some unnecessary battles, sometimes _painfully, silently screaming and crying _staying put when necessary.

She finally reaches her Destination, _beside the White King._

"_Are ya weavin' again, Sunshine?"_ This will be the last time, they both know, that he will see her, ask her this overused, but meaningfully ambiguous line of theirs, their own secret form of communication, a code of saying but differently meaning so many things.

_Yes._

Her tiny black pawn has reached the other side of the chess board.

For the first time in a long time, the White King trembles. _He had been fooled, manipulated, used, duped _by an unsuspecting pawn which he thought he had conquered, mastered, broken, controlled like his former Follower.

_No!_

_Yes._

The pawn becomes the restored Black Queen. In one step, she moves left.

_It's over._

The White King falls.

"_Are ya weavin' again, Sunshine?"_

She rushes to his fallen side. The silver fox is dead. It spat upon his own God, trying and dying as a result.

It may be wishful thinking, but she thinks innately that he is asking her _their_ question.

She answers him, tears raining gently on a sad, healing smile.

"For You."

Her Older Doppelganger cries a waterfall as she gently lays her woven, gray silk shroud on him, covering Ichimaru Gin.

_Checkmate._

**A/N **Whoo, it's finally done. This was a personally harder one to write, very brain-teasing.

Now, can you see who are the characters of each of the pieces? Do you know which battles and scenes I am referring too?

Just to clear any potential charges, the ending bit was _**not **_an Atobe Keigo-like sort of narcissism (Prince of Tennis fans, anyone?) or vanity. I got this idea from playing chess with my cousin when he was able to exchange his pawn for a Queen (allowing him _two Queens, that little brat!_) and trounce me in the first set. [I got him back in the following set _Hah! Take that, Boris._] So it was chess and not my name which gave me the inspiration.

It is such a shame that Orihime is so often undervalued or even worse, bashed in ridiculous hate speeches and propaganda by overly-zealous Ichiruki shippers and fans. It would have been laughable had it not been so lamentable for fans from both sides to get into such deplorable arguments.

**Newsflash****! **Rukia and Orihime are fantastic and different in their own rights. They each fill a certain niche within Ichigo's life – I highly doubt that even with his emotional density of several lead blocks from here to Mars that he will deny that he does not care for the both of them. (Instead of talking, he'll probably pummel you first for 'speaking crap' a.k.a insulting Rukia and Orihime.)

Now just to end off my rant: **Orihime and Rukia are friends! **That has been firmly established both in the manga and in the anime (episodes and filler-wise: remember the special New Year's episode in which Rukia takes Orihime to visit a shrine while secretly arranging, with Renji's help, Ichigo, Sado and Ishida to meet up with the two girls there?)

I think I better end by just asking for you guys for your always-cherished reviews. (No flames at my little ending rant please – it's not worth it)

As usual, Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Dear minna-san, apologies for being away for so long. It's not writer's block, but something equally as dreadful … flat hunting and moving, which have left me physically too drained to even lift a finger to type out my ideas.

While I will try to update as much as possible, I may not be able to as frequently as I used to. I won't deny that a lack of reviews can sometimes be offputting… but having said that, I am very happy and grateful for each and every one of your reviews. Perhaps my Orihime pairings are a little unconventional so please encourage others to read my fanfics. There would be nothing better than to see Hitsuhime, Byahime and Ginhime become more mainstream! :D

Without further ado, I give you the next installment of Golden Threads and Poisoned Fangs. (Gin might be a tad _Darker _in this one, just for the heads up :)

**Mythical**

_She really is a curio … that Sunshine. _

Eyes, a distinct and unsettling shade of red-purple morph into the palest shade of ice blue, as they sharply observe the newest addition to their Las Noches 'family'. Gin allows his brows to furrow minutely although his ubiquitous smile is firmly attached.

_This is dangerous. _

Because as much as Ichimaru Gin can fool Soul Society, his childhood sweetheart, a murderous God-wannabe – the world, he cannot _and actually never has _deluded himself. And right now, he recognizes exactly what the symptoms of his behaviour is.

_Obsession. _

_He is obsessed with a certain Weaving Princess._

_He is obsessed with Inoue Orihime. _

Initially, he supposed that his fascination with the human girl stemmed from her resemblance to Rangiku, albeit a much more unworldly and innocent version. _It wasn't that. _

She was _new_. He was bored. Even _Aizen_ had taken the time to stage an elaborate kidnapping, had gazed appreciatively at the young human girl as she demonstrated her abilities of negation and reversal when she returned Grimmjaw's arm and tattoo back to him.

_But that wasn't the Reason._

He was intrigued as to her function in Hueco Mundo, her role that Aizen had undoubtedly designated for her. _Contrary to popular belief, not even Gin is privy to the most intimate details of Aizen's plans. _He is interested in her… as an entity, a person, herself.

_What is she?_

It is also no secret that Gin is attached to folklore and myths. The questioning of the surreal and taken-for-granted facts, the thrilling fusion of the abstract and reality, is reminiscent of the way he typically fights, _his style_.

_She is an anomaly in their merry band of cutthroat murderers and traitors. _

Gin initially thought Aizen might even train Sunshine or fill her with the power of the Hogyouku to create the 'perfect' Arrancar, which the former fifth captain had failed to create (though no one would dare admit or say it aloud), as seen with the Espada and the banished Vaizards. But he didn't touch a strand of her pretty sunray hair. _Which was a shame, a pity really. It was such a __waste__. _

_Didn't he see how much potential she has? _

_To be twisted. To be disturbed. _

Granted, Gin had many faults, perhaps the foremost of which was being a sadist and a slight tormentor. _He freely admitted to that. _However, one mistake he _never _made was to underestimate his opponents.

He felt the thrilling danger and attraction to the fire within Kurosaki Ichigo.

The interest was more transient with _little Kuchiki-chan_, or even with mini-taichou Hitsugaya. Hinamori-chan was _far too easy _to break and manipulate.

_But Sunshine…_

Sunshine was a true mystery and constantly reviving puzzle, which one might have thought easily solved until it was flipped or even tilted at a slightly new angle, only to find that there was still a missing piece or a piece which no longer fit. She has proved much more resilient than expected, _than what meets the eye. And that's what Gin enjoys most about her – because in real life, nothing is ever what it seems. _

Seemingly controlled or beaten down at first, she would slowly, warily raise her tired eyes again after the assault whether physical, verbal or mental, was over, and continue observing, planning and waiting. _She was no fool, and no puppet which Aizen believes he can pull the strings of at whim._

Aizen may think she merely serves as a _Helen of Troy_, the beautiful face that launched a thousand ships which would send Kurosaki Ichigo and Soul Society clashing with the Arrancars of Hueco Mundo. _That hoodwinked fool _may believe that she is only bait, a victim crying for rescue – _and he could not be further from the Truth._

Gin had seen the well-concealed determination behind the gray pools of supposed fear and apparent unhappiness. _They may not be the same bonfire flames within Kurosaki Ichigo, but her eyes are stronger, lives longer – her eyes are Embers which can never be doused. _

She may bend but she will not break. Like bamboo, she is deceptive _perhaps untentionally so. _But the more bamboo is bent, the more potent is its sting once it is released.

Sunshine may not possess a zanpakutou, a bow or even brute strength, but Gin can feel the thrum of energy beneath her skin, _the heat of the stars radiating an unending warmth _which so draws and repulses, inspires _fear _in the low-life Hollows here. _It is an element they cannot understand, a force when finally tapped into, unleashed, will be a true Force to be reckoned with. _

After all, stars shine at their brightest at the moment of their death. What remains unburned from the intensity of their heat will be sucked with them to their spiraling black-hole graves.

_No, Gin sees Inoue Orihime as a much more significant person than anyone he had ever encountered … including Rangiku. _

If he had to compare Sunshine to his much loved myths and legends, he would say she reminded him of _Clotho_, the youngest sister of the _Moirai, _or theThree Fates, who was responsible for spinning the thread of human life. Thus, she controlled not only when a person was born but also commanded when gods or mortals were to be saved or put to death. At the same time, _Clotho _had much in common with Sunshine's namesake, the _Weaving Princess_.

_And Aizen, that Fool, was not even aware that his days were numbered. _

Orihime's weapon is not something tangible, not even as concealable as thread – it is human life. By reversing whole scale events of near-death and destruction, she could essentially render a person void, non-existent.

"Gin, what are you thinking so hard about?"

Eyes lid shut as they gaze at the self-proclaimed _God _with hidden venomous amusement.

"Nothing much…"

**A/N **And here comes the 3 R's… Review, Review, Review! Heehee :P Will be so very happy if you do. I will try to get back to work on my other fics as soon as I can, but I can provide no guarantees.

Please understand…


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N ** A speculation of what could have happened if Aizen forced Orihime to take a more proactive role during her imprisonment in Hueco Mundo…

**Favour**

_He was just doing her a favour, nothing more. _Gin told himself even as he placed his arms around the trembling, _painfully human_, girl.

His hands, enveloping her much smaller ones, steadied them on the hilt of _Shinsou. Honestly, his feelings for Rangiku _– and by association, his purely platonic feelings for the Reminder embodied in Inoue Orihime – _are going to be the death of him._

When Aizen had ordered his newest prisoner to kill one of the traitor, cowardly lower-ranked Numero, Gin had actually pitied the pale _ningen_, who was both literally and metaphorically stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her reluctance to kill the Espada was obvious. It was equally obvious to Gin that Aizen was further killing two birds with one stone. _Should Orihime herself attempt to betray Aizen, her fate would be the same as the Hollow currently cowering a stone's throw away from her feet. And… by killing that Hollow, she is equally stained with blood from doing Aizen's bidding. _

In short, the Weaving Princess cannot escape either from her Fate or her morals.

It was the petrified deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her drawn features that prompted Gin to chirpily announce to the assembly of the top ten Espadas (and Aizen) gathered _that being_ _Ori_-_Hi-me-chan's first time, she ought to have a handicap. _He then proceeded to draw out _Shinsou _as he walked towards the frozen human girl.

In tucking the petite former _ryoka _in his arms, Gin was pleased to note that Cuartro Espada Ulquiorra was glaring daggers at him. _After all, Gin would never deny that he is a sadistic bastard at heart. _His smile widened as the fourth strongest Espada stiffened and clenched his jaw when Gin nuzzled Orihime's exposed neck and auburn hair.

"Let's go, Sunshine." He whispered quietly for her ears alone. Then, he forced her to step forward and with an easy push to her arm holding his zanpakutou, propelled _Shinsou_ to slice into the howling Espada.

_She is drenched in blood now, but Gin can share that same burden with her. _

**A/N **I do not own Bleach. Don't forget to leave a review…or else…_(Shinsou hisses behind Reader-san) XD_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **I had a little difficulty of which avenue to continue to explore with GinHime. Feeling hungry, this is what I came up with. Enjoy!

**Taste**

It was during a moment of boredom that Gin had roamed the halls of Las Noches and ended up outside her room.

_Ah, it appears to be lunchtime for Sunshine. _

The silver-haired man knocked, and upon receiving permission to enter _she sounds surprised, _he pushed open the door.

"Ichimaru-san!" Aizen's latest captive stood up hurriedly from her chair when she realised who had come to pay her a visit.

"Ah, ah, ah Ori-hi-me-chan! No need to get all worked up. I just dropped by. Go finish your lunch. Pretend that I'm not even here." Gin's smile stretched even wider. The last suggestion would not have been possible given his nature and her discomfort at his presence.

Orihime slowly sat down before she sighed and gave a resigned poke at the food on her plate.

"The stuff here not to your liking, Sunshine?"

The auburn-haired human girl paused, as though weighing whether or not to confide in Gin. It appeared loneliness won out so she spoke.

"The meals are all very nice. Ulquiorra-kun makes sure I eat them… but…"

"But?" Gin prompted, curious. _Cuartro Espada allows her to call him Ulquiorra-kun?_

"The food lacks taste," Orihime whispered, a small amount of guilt crossed her features.

Gin actually considered for a moment. Cocking his head at a slight angle, he observed. Despite being fed three meals a day, Sunshine was evidently _losing_ weight instead.

He knew how food can become unappealing if unfresh or was bland. His scavenging days in the Rukongai with Rangiku resurfaced in his mind.

Finding himself in a slightly charitable mood, he reached into the billowing white sleeves of his outer coat and withdrew a small pouch. Gin swiftly pushed something into Orihime's parted lips as she began to ask a question.

Her eyes watered as her taste buds tensed then relaxed at the sweetness on her tongue.

Raising her hand to take the object in Gin's hand, she gazed in surprise at her palm as she chewed slowly, relishing the sweet taste.

"Sugared persimmons?" she asked, looking with wide grey eyes at Gin.

The foxy captain only smirked, munching on his own piece as he recalls his first encounter with Rangiku and similarly feeding her with persimmons as she lay in the beaten track, abused and exhausted from hunger.

_How nostalgic… _Gin thought before he raised another piece of persimmon to Orihime's pink lips, feeding her in the same way he would feed an injured sparrow.

**A/N **I thought a more lighter piece is needed after some of the darker chapters that we've had. Keep reading please. The following entries would include speculation of what could have happened if Orihime was placed under the care of Gin instead of Ulquiorra. :)

Remember to review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Fraccion**

_She was thriving. _

Or rather, she was thriving as best as a human could when placed into an arid desert with Arrancars for daily companions.

Verdant eyes, observing more a distance, narrowed in frustration at the fascination and enigma embodied by the _onna_.

How a mere slip of a girl, and a human one at that, could contain so many paradoxes within that petite frame of a human shell is beyond Ulquiorra.

_Her powers of Rejection of any event, of Reality should she so wish, are strong – Aizen-sama said she trespasses into God's divine territory. Yet she chooses to be weak. She places the wellbeing of her nakamas before her own, allowing herself to be caught in Ulquiorra's web of psychological imprisonment. _

Although Ulquiorra questions himself silently when he patrols the hallways – not that anyone would pry this confession from his dark lips, even if he were to die – just exactly _who _is imprisoning _whom? _

_She is unnatural_ – the one spot of vibrant colour in Las Noches, the one being resisting the self-proclaimed God _for all her attempts to remain discreet and unobtrusive. She cannot. Not in her attempts to succeed, and certainly not in her zealous attempts to fade into the background. _

_She will not defend herself. _The image of her bruises and injuries from Loly and Menoly's assaults were imprinted on the back of his eye. _But she can heal any form of injury. She brought back Grimmjow's arm, from nothing. _

_How can something spring, grow from Nothingness? How can one woman fracture the Nothingness state of M__ü to bring forth Life? _

_Like she is doing now… _

Taken out of Ulquiorra's care and placed under Ichimaru Gin's, Inoue Orihime is interacting with the Numero Espadas on a daily basis. Unlike Ulquiorra, the silver-haired, fox-like man allowed the young girl to wander around and escape the boundaries of the four walls of her room. Having stumbled upon Starrk and Lilinette, the _Onna _has taken to conversing with the _Primera _and his younger sister.

Introduced to Tia Harribel and her Fraccion trio, the females did not go out of their way to befriend the human healer, but they didn't allow Nnoitra or Szayel Apporro to mishandle her.

Grimmjow was often found in her company, sometimes silent, sometimes complaining. It appears she is the only person who he deems 'alright' to hold a decent conversation with 'to break the goddamn boredom around here'.

Orihime is gathering the separate strands of the wandering Espada into the palm of her hands.

_She is living._

The colour is slowly returning to her cheeks. The luminosity of her hair and eyes are gradually showing.

_She is unnatural. _

_Like all human trash, give her leeway, some sort of breathing room, and she will survive, thrive in a hostile environment of literal backstabbing and Death, a world bent on tearing her down – spirit, will, and dignity. _

The female arrancar trash in a constant lack of dress, the twin with the pink eye, calls her a "freak".

_No._

_She is something undefinable, something … out of this world._

As Aizen's right-hand man _"lapdog" is how Grimmjow refers to it_, Ulquiorra ought to be contemplating how he has failed Aizen-sama for the _onna _to be removed from his care. His strategic, rational mind suggests that perhaps, he has done no wrong. _A likely possibility is Aizen-sama's wish to test Ichimaru Gin's loyalty, using Inoue Orihime as a pair of spying eyes._ Instead of feeling relieved that the troublesome burden of a human is removed from his hands, the Cuatro Espada finds himself restless, pacing the halls from having a lack of anything to do, his mind constantly returning to thoughts of the human woman.

Ulquiorra Schiffer had no grudge with Ichimaru Gin. _Before. _

When he sees how he transforms _Her_, he almost snarls. He is glad that his hands are tucked into his hakama pockets so that no one can see their clenching.

Gone are the jacket and the puffy sleeves which Ulquiorra had chosen for her. Instead, Orihime wears Ichimaru Gin's new colours. A Chinese-style _shenyi, _a white full-length body garment which skims the floor, bound at the waist by a black _obi_, forms her attire, delineating her soft curves and lines. A triangle of naked flesh, just below the column of her exposed throat, tantalizes from her otherwise, covered body. But most drastically, her hair is pulled back from her face. The titian sidelocks which formerly framed her cheeks are intricately braided _like the sunset scales of a snake _into symmetrical loops while the rest of her hair is knotted back, again, in a series of intricate curls and braiding. 

And from the mass of coils slithers an imposing headpiece.

_A double uraeus, a two-headed cobra, guards its mistress' back, daring anyone – intruder and foe alike – to lay a hand on the exposed back of her neck, which carries Aizen's branding mark. _

_The mathematical symbol of infinity._

This whole ensemble gives the _onna _a more mature appearance, _bringing forth the Woman within the Child, the Woman who she would have become in Time, dragged to the forefront by means of extraordinary circumstances. _

And Ulquiorra hated it _with every fibre of his hollow, meaningless self_.

Before the _onna _was unfathomable, but still reachable. Now, in her current form, she is all but _attainable. _

Beyond his reach.

Beyond Ulquiorra's reach.

And Ulquiorra finds himself hating Ichimaru Gin on the same level as the trash Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo.

In some twisted sense of humour, Ichimaru left Orihime with no shoes or boots to protect the soles of her feet. In addition to her neck, Temptation exhibits itself through the turn of her delicate, small ankles.

Ichimaru allowed her freedom, but did not feed her, making herself fend for her growling stomach.

Ulquiorra knew all this, but did not remedy the situation. She is out of his care now. He shouldn't care, and he doesn't, not really. _But he does wonder. _He also does not help out of a sense of spite, lusting to see her fail, fall _without his interference_. He feels a sense of betrayal though logically, the woman owed him no allegiance of any sort.

"Ya thinking, you shoulda held on a little longer. Am I right, Cuartro-san?"

Ulquiorra stiffens, clenching his teeth, as he turns to face the ex-shinigami captain.

"Whatever you are insinuating, I am certainly not feeling _that_."

"Oooh, are we onto _feelings _now? So Sunshine _did _have an impact on you." The ubiquitous smile stretches even wider as slitted red eyes assess the silently-self-berating Espada before him.

"Don't worry Cuatro-san. I can keep a secret." Gin sing-songed before brushing past the immobile Espada.

The final remaining echo, like the grazing of a cobra's fangs on the back of Ulquiorra's neck, rustles and rattles the normally unperturbed Number 4.

"We've all been through that phase at one time or another."

**A/N **Hello minna! It's been a while. Showcasing this chapter from Ulquiorra's perspective if Orihime were taken under Gin's 'care' as his Fraccion. (I suppose, this chapter is a twisted version of Ulquihime although Ulquiorra is deeply in denial. XD)

Review if you don't wanna get bitten by Shinsou! :P

Checkmate does not own Bleach.


	7. Chapter 7

**Blind Man's Buff**

_Dead men's eyes._

Orihime is no stranger at looking at or into them.

Her very first experience, after all, has been her own brother, her beloved Sora _Nii-chan_. After that fatal impact with a car, which had sent Sora skidding for a few feet down the road like an abused ragdoll instead of a healthy young man in his twenties – _who loved his imouto andshehadkilledhim oh God oh God! _– Orihime had rolled his body over with all the strength her 12-year old body held and pleaded with him to live – _and I'm so sorry sorry sorry _– looking into his eyes.

Sora's eyes had been slightly glazed over as though he was still in shock that he had been hit by a car. The look of gathering recognition and the hoarse, incoherent attempts by his mouth to reassure his sister were there _but helplessly unable to translate to words from the journey in his diaphragm, past broken ribs and strangled vocal chords. _

Sora passed away _leaving his sister without comfort or alleviation of guilt_ after she doggedly carried him to the Kurosaki clinic.

_Helplessness and fear._

Those were the emotions Orihime first identified in dead men's eyes.

She saw them again a second time_, _but this time tinged with nostalgia_ an unbearable sadness, smelling of rust, dust and age _– a burden, which cripples the spirit, carried for far too long … in Kuchiki Byakuya.

In the aftermath of the confrontation with Aizen on Soukyouku Hill, Orihime and Ichigo had climbed up to the sixth division captain's hospital room in search of Rukia. _Of course, she made no mention to it. Byakuya-san is a proud man. He would reject any attempts to comfort, especially a human girl's comfort, in the presence of his Lieutenant and Kurosaki-kun. _

The only comfort Orihime derived from that fleeting glimpse into hardened slate was the beginning of softening, self-forgiveness, and a long-due apology which would morph into a devoted sibling bond _which she shall never, never enjoy with Sora-nii again_.

But here _here _in this barren desert of chiaroscuro, of Eternal Nights with the cold light of a crescent moon enclosed behind a three-barred window, there are Dead Men's Eyes _everywhere_.

There were very few sentient beings.

The lower Hollows were driven by an instinctive, insatiable urge to feed _to survive, to become stronger, to _not _become prey_.

And even the Espadas, evolved Hollows with developed, more mature powers and physical forms, lacked the ability to empathize, to forgive, to love.

Heuco Mundo is truly the City of the Dead, if Las Noches could be considered a city within itself.

She read many emotions in the eyes of these skeletal inhabitants bound together only by hierro and reiatsu _and their allegiance to one man, Aizen Sousuke._

_Indifference._

_Boredom._

_Insanity._

_Hatred and disgust. (and jealousy?)_

Though that is ridiculous since there is nothing enviable about her current situation.

In the end, there is only one man who defies her scrutiny, her ability to read others - the right hand man of the aspiring God.

What about her Warden? Could Orihime read Ulquiorra?

The truth: not all the time.

The antagonistic verdant irises had ranged from distaste to disgust at her humanity, her emotion, _her defiance _but had gained transient periods of mocking curiousity, _interest and a look which Orihime cannot identify, does not wish to identify._

Because it is foreign and frightens her.

_Nihilism has no place with possessiveness._

Ulquiorra said so himself, "Things which are not reflected in his eye, which he cannot see, do not exist,"

Is Orihime claiming to be able to read Aizen? Of course not, but there are emotions the former shinigami captain cannot, perhaps does not notice, hide fro his subjects in general.

_Mockery. _

_Arrogance. _

Ambition.

There is little need to read Tousen, the blind assistant to Aizen. Utter loyalty _beyond the point of Reason _has little more to divulge.

But the silver-haired _kitsune_-like man is a complete mystery.

Orihime cannot read him because he does not show his eyes.

Like the lidded eyes of a snake or the shutters of a window, Ichimaru Gin hides his eyes. Orihime normally would not care. It was not in her nature to pry; what she noticed of the creatures surrounding her, she read out of reflex.

She would not have cared that she could not read Ichimaru Gin had she not noticed that the former Third division captain would be watching her. When she was allowed her daily stroll behind Ulquiorra _how she felt worse than an animal, a stray, "Pet-sama" _she would look beyond her Warden to notice Ichimaru-san materializing behind a shadowed pillar _so silently _and greeting her with an out-of-place chirpy hello. How she finished pouring tea for Aizen (no, must remember to say, 'Aizen-sama' no matter how much she hated _hated hated _saying it) at the Espada meeting, careful not to upset the teapot, to ignore two pairs of hateful, scouring eyes, _to not allow tears to prick her eyes at feeling like a slave girl, helpless to a manipulative master and lecherous cohorts, unable to defend herself _because to do so would mean punishment and death _she needs to bide her time to destroy the Hougyouku, reject its very existence_, only to look up from her task and notice those reptilian closed eyes watching her movement.

(She did not spill tea on Aizen, but she broke the teapot that time out of being startled.)

His lack of eyes is eerie. Especially moreso, when his character displayed a wide array of emotions _playfulness, humour, emotions which had no place in this dead, dead dimension._

It's like hearing a rustling beneath cloth, but not knowing what was slithering beneath.

Orihime wonders what Ichimaru Gin sees in her for him to display such an uncanny interest in her motions, her activities. _Did Aizen set him up to spy on her?_

She doesn't like it, and not simply because she cannot pierce his mask, his front, but also the sensation she always gets when he looks her way, an unbearable _nakedness _which renders her vulnerable _as though he could every fibre of her repressed melancholy, beneath the flesh to the muscles and strands of DNA holding the dreams of Five Lifetimes, which she can no longer accomplish _because of this Devil's bargain.

And so, she is always follows a mantra when she meets him, sees him.

_Be courteous and retreat._

Answer politely _as her dear older brother had instilled her _then leave.

Orihime cannot afford distractions, not when she is putting her plan into action. _Must _not allow herself to be lulled into that false sense of security when Ichimaru-san asks how she has been _like what her classmates would ask her, what Tatsuki-chan (oh how she missed Tatsuki!) would ask her _and has 'Cuartro-san' been treating her kindly?

She does not want to recognize that Ichimaru Gin may have read her better than she could read Herself.

She does not want to recognize that _sheer impossibility _that there is a kindred spirit within him.

_No. That would be sheer madness … to discern an empathic, Kindred Spirit _in a dead man's eyes.

**A/N **I have been away for some time (sorry), and there are more plot lines in my mind than I have the time to put down. But deadlines and my eyes (they've swelled and watered from straining too much) have kept me away from updating.

For those who don't know, Blind Man's Buff is a different version of tag or Marco Polo, but with the use of a blindfold. According to Wikipedia, there are several versions of blind man's buff. The following is an extract taken from Wiki, for which I claim no ownership.

"_In a uniquely Japanese version, young girls dress up in their kimonos and the blind-folded girl must catch or touch the other girls both while blindfolded and at the same time carrying a full cup of tea. Saw this in Shuntei Miyagawa's woodblock print __Kodomo-no-Asobi__ (Children at Play), published in the 32nd. year of Meiji-era (1899) by Matsuki Heikichi of Tokyo."_

Hence, I wanted to include Orihime having to carry a teapot to mirror the above description.

Anyways, would love to hear from you. Review please (would adore you if you would!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Anchor**

Since when did a refreshing Puzzle grow stale in his fantasy?

_He had secretly welcomed her presence in their base of Hueco Mundo. _She was pleasant change from the normal company he kept – Tousen is blander than ever with his unswerving loyalty to Aizen-taichou, and the rest of the Espada and Arrancar had no aspirations but to feed on each other or weaker prey like vulture.

_Now he resents her._

She is a helpful reminder of the task which he has still failed to accomplish - to avenge Rangiku – after so many years.

Her doppelganger likeness is inducing horrible comparisons which can never come to fruition. _Not in the past and certainly not in their current present._

And yet she has not done anything wrong.

Inoue Orihime has not changed in behaviour since she arrived in Las Noches. She has not been provocative or blatantly defiant or rude to him or become as vicious in the literal backstabbing of his fellow creatures in this realm.

_No, it is _him _who has changed._

And it can only lead to trouble.

For when they stroll together, different possibilities – past regrets, reimagined experiences with Ran and unlikely scenarios now – fester in his brain like a malignant tumour.

How gold wheat bleed before his eyes to a faded copper.

How the sudden twist of a surprised head can be so similar.

How the _hissing voice _within him urges him to _bite _and be done with Temptation.

So when he dips his head towards pink, wind-chapped lips (in an isolated corner beyond Aizen's sight), he is unprepared for a barrier.

A soft barrier.

It is the innerside of her palm which she presses against his mouth.

A sad, sad sea looks at him _so different from the pale ash-blue of his childhood _with regret but firm resolution.

"Ichimaru-san" _she has always been courteous to him _"… a copy cannot replace the original."

This startles him to open his eyes and look _truly Look _at her.

_To see the Differences._

_To see the Similarities. _

_To see Her._

His red eyes cause hers to widen in surprise before resuming its normality touched now by fascination and curiousity.

_How annoying._

He is glad that his tight grip on her wrist, as he pulls her hand away from his mouth, causes her to wince from pain.

_She is right though._

_She denies him so little so much._

_It is the right course of action. No it is not._

"Ya certainly presume much, Sunshine."

He backs her against a cold, sterile, white wall. But upon seeing her eyes _hurt, confusion – "Gin, where are you?" … "Gin, where are you going?" … "Gin, why are you leaving?" – _he loosens his grip.

"Ya presume much," he repeats, but this time with less anger, his thumb rubbing an apology which he cannot _has forgotten how to _voice.

He escorts her back to her room before leaving without a backward glance.

_Inoue Orihime is a true Anchor to his sanity, to his Mission._

_He ought to be grateful. _

_Yet he couldn't help the resentment bubbling beneath his smile._

She is the Weaving Princess of the Stars, yet she could not spare him a touch of the Sky _infinite nebulae of possibilities_, but keep him tethered _grounded _in Reality.

Because for that one moment, that near touch of lips, he had not been thinking of Rangiku.


End file.
